


Happines is not a place

by Narmie



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Angst, Feelings, Hurt, M/M, Sad, change of POV, pov armie, the ending is unknown, thoughts not in a good place, very sad in fact
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-11-01 23:27:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20543942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Narmie/pseuds/Narmie
Summary: Have you ever stopped for a second and look? At your life, your choices, your thoughts? For a long time after that night, I refused to think about you, to think about the decision I made. Of course, you were there, constantly in the back of my mind, I was dreaming about you, I was seeing you everywhere. But I refused to think about you consciously. I’ve pushed to the back of my mind and sealed that box with concrete. Why you could ask. Simply because I knew that the guilt would eat me alive. The time had passed and the box creaked, forbidden thoughts sneaking through cracks to my consciousness. One day I just stopped. Pretending that I’m alright. Pretending everything is fine. But when you lie to yourself for a long time how you can then live with reality.Two bitter years later, Armie gets the message.





	1. Again

**Author's Note:**

> Another kind of weird story, that I decided to post knowing perfectly that if I won't do that today then I might never.  
I still don't know how it will end. So there's that
> 
> PS: I kind of blame you 6 for this. You made me write more.

_ “I don’t know” _

_ “You don’t know?” _

_ “I don’t know” his voice stutters, breath catching in his throat. He wants to say more, he wants to explain, by he can’t pass those words through his vocal cords. He looks at him. At his green eyes, at the wrinkles around them, at the soft, plump lips and beautifully pale cheeks. He looks at the long, dark eyelashes, at curls like a crown surrounding his forehead. He looks and he stares and he can’t say any word to make it better. To stop the tears falling down those cheeks. To stop the trembling of his lower lip. To stop the clenching of his jawline. _

_ “So you say you love me, but you don’t know for sure. You say you want this, but at the same time, you’re constantly pushing me away. You say you don’t know, but what exactly you don’t know Armie?! That you want to be with me, that you love me?! What does it mean to you?!” his hands clutching tightly the hem of his sweater, his voice a low whisper, even though those are accusations spilling out of his mouth. He just wants to hug him, to hold him tightly to his own chest and whisper to his ear that everything will be alright. That they are going to be alright. _

_ He looks at him, the anger in his eyes changing his features, hardening the usual softness of his face. The gaze full of ire and disappointment. He hugs himself, his long arms wrapping around his shoulders, shielding himself from the hurt and pain. _

_ “I’ve never wanted to hurt you” _

_ “Well perhaps you should’ve thought about this before you made me fall in love with you” words like stabs of a knife straight to his heart. Merciless and unyielding. _

_ And when the door closes behind him with a silent click, he can hear his whole world crumble at his feet. _

_ ‘I’m in LA. Can we meet?’ _

How is that even possible that simple message can destroy all the peace you managed to build in your life. To sneak between the cracks on your walls and to shake your word to the core. Turn everything upside down, only for you to sit there and stare at the pieces that instead of brick as you thought it was, are thin pieces of glass. 

The light of the screen fades, but he still holds the phone tightly in his hand. He turns it on again and looks at the message. His eyes are drawn to the previous one. Send by Timmy almost 2 years ago. 

_ ‘I love you’ _

There were nights when he stared at this message for hours. The darkness around him only brightened by moonlight sipping between curtains. There weren't any tears falling down his cheeks, any sobs of pain and hurt that constricted his chest, that stiffened his muscles. There was only that deep-down ache, filling his bones, his veins, his flesh. The ache that is with him, for two years now. The constant white-noise in his ears, that he can’t get rid of even if he wanted.

His fingers run gently over the message, caressing the words. This is the first time that Timmy acknowledges his presence beside curt nods exchanged on after-parties and red carpets. He isn’t sure if it’s a miracle or curse. There are so many things he wants to say, so many things to clarify. But … is there any chance? Maybe it’s better to leave thoughts tormenting him unsaid? Perhaps he should just stop and forget, meet him as a new person, no history between them?

But how can he?! If the only thing he wants is to feel his body close, to wrap his arms around Timmy and never - _ never _ \- let him go. How, if every time he sees his photos, protectiveness surges through his veins, even though he has no right to it. How he can look at him and see only Timothée the actor and not the love of his life. 

He knows his heart too well. If he will see him, his whole world would shatter to pieces. It will break - as his heart will - to tiny fragments that he won’t be able to stitch together. 

_ He wakes up, his body stiff and aching. His hand moves on its own accord only to find the space next to him empty. And terribly cold. Suddenly he feels nauseous. Timmy is gone and he won’t come back. _

_ His body protests when he lifts himself up and crosses the room to the bathroom. He stinks. The alcohol permanently clinging to him like a piece of fabric. He looks at his reflection in the mirror and swallows the bitter taste - the mix of alcohol, cigarettes, shame, and regret. His eyes are puffy, looking just tired. And he thinks for a second where’s the man that had those vibrant blue eyes. Where did he go? Will he ever come back?! _

_ He splashes cold water on his face and presses the heels of his palms hard against his eye sockets. He doesn’t want to feel. He doesn’t want to be. There’s no life there. Inside him. Only skeleton, bones covered in flesh. _

_ He opens them again and just stares. Wishing to wake up. He blinks a couple of times, but it's the same dull blue shade again and again and again. He wants the fury, the rage, the ire to burn him from the inside, to boil his veins. He wants to break the mirror into pieces and never see this blue hue again. _

_ There’s just void. A huge black hole. A hollowness that seems to expand every day, every minute, every second. Claiming more. Putting its rough claws and tearing him apart. Bit by bit. _

He tosses to phone on the bed, sighing audibly. He doesn't know what to do. _ Forget? _ And what if he will write another one. _ Respond? _ But what exactly he should write. _ Sorry buddy, I’m not in town. _ Or maybe more truthfully. _ Sorry Timmy, but I don’t want to break my heart again. Because I know I won’t heal it again. It still isn’t. But I pretend. Like I did all my life. Wasn’t it what you said to me? _

He walks out of his bedroom into the kitchen, his thoughts spinning in his head making him dizzy, anxiety rising and possible answers aren’t coming. He just needs it all to stop. He takes the bottle in his hand. Long, thick fingers wrapping around the glass, amber liquid swirling in his grip. He pours it, a generous amount and just holds in his right hand, cold sipping from the glass to his warm palm, ice cubes tickling. He doesn’t want to drink it. It’s tempting. His nostrils flare at the sweet scent, he can feel the burning taste at the tip of his tongue, the warmness that always spreads in his stomach after a big gulp. 

_ “Why you always drink whiskey?” Timmy asks, his voice maybe a little bit slurry. How he does it, Armie doesn’t know. How he just exists, perfectly, in such an ugly place. How he sits and asks questions so peacefully next to such a broken person. _

_ “Sometimes I drink vodka” is what Armie replies, his thoughts never-ending story of appreciating Timmy’s softness and wondering how the hell he ended up being here with him. _

_ “Yeah, when you want to get wasted. But not when you want to spend some chill evening” _

_ Armie hums to himself, knowing perfectly that Timmy is right. Acknowledging the fact that almost nothing can escape him. It’s frightening. _

_ “I never thought about it” he responds honestly, his fingers brushing the edges of the glass, his eyes locked on the liquid, mesmerized by the beauty of the shade, how it changes with the light and angles. _

_ “Hmmm. So it’s taste then” Timmy hums acknowledgedly and then without any warning places himself on Armie’s lap, his thighs securely placed on each side of Armie’s legs, bracketing him. He leans forward, just to brush his lips against Armie’s, still parted in surprise. Timmy grins, mischievously then laps at Armie’s mouth with his tongue. It’s filthy, fierce, full of spit and biting. Timmy’s hips undulating, moving against Armie’s clothed hard-on, seeking a little bit of friction. He grips Timmy’s hips firmer, pushing them harder against one another, making them moan in unison. Timmy nuzzles his neck, his hair-ends rasping the skin softly, planting small kisses here and there. His cock trapped in the confines of his jeans, growing harder with every little move and he can feel a bead of pre-come dripping from the slit when Timmy bites his earlobe purposefully, lapping the bite with his tongue, soothing it. _

_ “I want” Timmy rasps, his nose pressed to Armie’s ear, his hips still moving in small, not so steady movements “I want to eat you out, to rim you for a very long time, until you can’t take more and the only thing on your mind is my name” Armie groans, his head tilting back when heat pools in his belly. He stands, grabbing Timmy up as he does so, giving him time to wrap his legs around the waist, crossing the ankles at his back, before heading inside. To the bedroom, _

The sudden flood of memories isn’t unexpected. The feelings on the other hand are. He thought he cope with it, in his own way dealt with it, moving past it. He knew he would never be the same. Because it shaped him, he couldn’t go back in time and not let it happen. He was this man because of those two years. 

There was a known, old, deep pain tugging his heart. The one that no matter what will always be with him. As a reminder. Of what he went through. Of what he did. Like an old scar cutting across your palm. Almost invisible. _ Almost _.

He lets himself succumb in this pain, feel it in every cell of his body. The feeling of old wounds opening almost suffocating, drowning him with misery, sorrow, and wretchedness. Until he can’t breathe, the air coming in and out of his mouth in shuddering pants. He has tears in his eyes and looks around his apartment counting things, holding the air every time a little bit longer. When it stops and his heartbeat returns to its normal pace, he unlocks his phone and writes.

_ Yeah. Tell me where and when _


	2. Untitled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well ... I'm in the mood still, so having chapter written I decided to just go with it and post.  
You may find it weird, this is mostly some inner monologue so I'm sorry if you will be fed up because there's no real action or even one dialogue.  
The end is unknown for me, let's see where my mind would be.  
PS: I needed some mood to write this and I ended up listening to the music from Lion (precisely Lion Theme) recommend this  
PPS: Thanks for your comments, I've read them all, just trying to figure how to respond.

I had this thing going on. Where I was explaining it all to you. I could make the argument in my head, hearing your soft voice responding to my thoughts, or take scraps of paper and write it all down, sentences not following the sense of one another, all the messy writing and scratching the words to replace them with better ones. Or even mumble to myself what I couldn’t say to you that night in person when my throat was knotted and taking a breath was hard. 

I call this Untitled. Because if I’d do it as many people do it now, it will be on my laptop, without a name given by myself, simply because I couldn’t name it at all. 

_ I think I saw you today. But it was just a boy with brown curls. Nonetheless, my breath hitched, my heart stopped beating for a mere second and started hammering inside my chest after. My mind was a haze of thoughts. Should I reach and talk?! Should I just wave and make my appearance clear?! Should I let you go without noticing me?! I was there standing in the center of a crowded street, unable to make a move. And some part of me knew that it wasn’t you. That it couldn’t be you, because you were in another city. But your damn heart hopes, you know. Hopes for some damn random luck of universe to happen. Because I fouled myself that you can go around unnoticed, so maybe - just this stupid, naive maybe - you’d be there. In the same city as me. In the same street. At the same time. And maybe that would mean something. _

_ You know the feeling when your hopes shatter? When every cell of your body vibrates with energy, screaming “that’s it, it’s finally happening’. To only break and tear your chest open with freezing cold of reality. You do, don’t you? Of course, you do. I did it to you.  _

_ How you ask for forgiveness? How you can choose words that sound less cliche than simple ‘I’m sorry I’ve failed you’. How you hope for a better future when all the good things had happened in the past.  _

_ Have you ever stopped for a second and look? At your life, your choices, your thoughts? For a long time after that night I refused to think about you, to think about the decision I made. Of course you were there, constantly in the back of my mind, I was dreaming about you, I was seeing you everywhere. But I refused to think about you consciously. I’ve pushed to the back of my mind and sealed that box with concrete. Why, you could ask. Simply because I knew that the guilt would eat me alive. The time had passed and the box creaked, forbidden thoughts sneaking through cracks to my consciousness. One day I just stopped. Pretending that I’m alright. Pretending everything is fine. But when you lie to yourself for a long time how you can then live with the reality.  _

_ Baby steps they say. Sometimes I could catch Nick looking at me as if I were a new species presented to him. Someone that looked exactly like his friend. The same height, the same build, the same blue eyes and blond hair. He was looking at me thinking about what he should do, how should he act. Because it was the same skeleton but the soul invading it was something else. Something he has never known before.  _

_ So I tried. With baby steps to show more of my previous self. Trying to get with my life, family, friends. Maybe I was fed up with their pitying looks and passive-aggressive comments. Perhaps I wanted to prove to them that I can, that I’m capable. _

_ Perhaps I lost myself somewhere along the way. Or perhaps more accurately there was never any ‘me’ to get lost in a haze of pain and despair. Perhaps I was looking for some old me that never existed beyond their praying eyes, beyond their wishes and promises, scoffs and mockings. Maybe I was just creation of their minds, of what they wanted and I couldn’t find it, because it never existed in me.  _

_ First I looked for my mom's approval. It never came. Then I looked with hoping eyes towards my friends to only find them speechless and wary. Because I wasn’t their Armie anymore. And somehow I even stopped being their friend. I wanted to look at you and find love and acceptance that were always there no matter what. But you weren’t there, not anymore. That thought broke me even more. _

_ The first time you kissed me it ... it felt wrong in so many ways. But I’d also felt so terribly right. Like this was exactly this, the thing I was waiting for my entire life. That kiss, that soft push of lips undo something inside me. _

_ So maybe it felt bad because I didn't know how to let myself be happy  _

_ I hated it. With my whole being I hated that with just the brush of your lips you unleashed something in me. That my mask crumbled and fell to the ground in pieces. That you left me craving more, wanting more. My body ached, my soul in hunger for everything. Yet it wasn’t mine to take. It marked me, like some stupid black dot on the back of my neck, that I coudn’t get rid of. From that moment on, the only thing I wished for was to feel your lips again, brushing against mine for the first time.  _

  
  


_ That night I wanted to say many things. That I love you. That I don’t imagine my life without you. That going back to the man I was before you is just impossible. But I had this … thought at the back of my mind, this constant pull. That I was broken. That I could never be fixed. I was … in fact I still am impulsive rich white man that never see more in himself. I thought that you made me better. Not better in the sense that I was changing, but in the sense that I could hide all those repellent features in a small black box and never look at them again. It wasn’t fixing, it was just hiding. And I convinced myself I could pretend that I was this man you loved. This affectionate, caring, lovely guy, you fell in love with. But it was all in me, I couldn’t deny for long what blood runs in my veins. And I knew that sooner or later, you will see me. The real me. My soul, with all the scars and bruises.  _

_ It took me time to realize it. Once I allowed myself to think about you, I started to roll this thought in my head. Thinking why? Only then I realized that you brought out the best in me. That it was not about hiding. It was about allowing myself to be vulnerable and to seek safety in your arms. It was about bringing everything I had good in me to the surface. It was in me. I only had to look.  _

_ You made me realize that we are all broken. In one way or another. But we are the ones choosing if we make it work. Or we allow ourselves to be happy with all the nightmares we went through. Or we give up letting the guilt eat us from the inside.  _

_ The only thing I regret is that I realized it too late.  _

_ Tonight I thought I won’t breathe. It attacked me by surprise. The sudden inability to fill my lungs with so needed air. The constriction of my throat, the lump inside me that made it difficult to swallow. The cold, low in my guts when I was hyperventilating on the ground in my apartment. My body wasn’t obeying me, I was just a shadow trapped in the skeleton, without any power over it. It deceived me. I was betrayed by the primal needs of my own body. _

_ I don’t know how long it lasted. I just have a vague memory of it, that I couldn’t breathe, that my heart was hammering in my chest, I was shaking on the floor, silent tears falling down my cheeks, living the salty trail behind them. That was the hardest panic attack I had since that night. Exactly one year after. I thought that I had it under control. That I had my feelings under control. I couldn’t be more mistaken.  _

_ You will never see this. There’s something purifying in this thought. The knowledge I can bare my soul to you, but you will never - ever - know. I never told anyone. Perhaps because of the lack of courage. Perhaps because it’s not something I even want to talk about. Perhaps because if I’d say it they simply wouldn’t understand. But I know you will.  _

_ Leaving you wasn’t the hardest part. It was tough. I admit that. Sometimes I was wondering what I was doing, what was the point of all of this. But I told myself that leaving you was better. That I was too damaged, too broken. That you were too good for me. Too precious. I told myself that you will waste yourself being with me and that someday you will resent me for that. I believed that letting you go was the best thing I could do to make you happy. That’s why it wasn’t the hardest part, I convinced myself I was doing this for you. I just told myself to suck it up and stop playing the martyr.  _

_ You know what was the hardest?! Creating my whole life without you. Having to make new Armie, putting the broken pieces together in some resemblance of a person that once existed. I wasn’t even aware of how much you shaped me, how much of you was in me until you weren’t there anymore. Up until that moment, I didn’t realize that my person was always a construct of others. Of how they thought I should behave, of what they thought I should say. I didn’t know who I was anymore. I wasn't a loving husband, I wasn’t good dad, I wasn’t an amazing son. I wasn’t the one for you. All those little things that were defining me, disappeared and I was left among void. Clueless, blind and alone. _

_ My therapist said at the very beginning of our sessions, that perhaps writing down all my thoughts and feelings would help me to sort out all the mess I’ve made. It was always easier for me to look at the words written down, at the black ink sinking to the paper and stare at them. Roll them in my head again and again and again. I was hesitant in the beginning. I didn’t want to write some rebel teenage diary. But I decided to give it a try and just put on the pure sheet all my struggles. It didn’t feel right. I just couldn’t. So I stopped. Then one day I had this strong urge to tell you something and I had the phone in my hand ready to call you when the reality punched me in the guts hard. Because I couldn’t. Because it wasn’t fair. Because there was nothing between us anymore. I did the same thing as I did before, drowning my self-pity with alcohol. And then I started writing. To you. About nothing and everything, I wanted to tell you for all this passed time. It was like a light switch, instead of trying to sort out my thoughts I just poured it all out as I was telling this to you. And it worked. _

_ Today I had my last appointment with my therapist. It doesn’t mean I’m ok. I think I’m aware I’m far from it. But I know how to handle the problems I’m facing and have more tools to deal with them. Some stories just has its ending. We move forward, leaving the periods of our lives behind us not even aware of it. I didn’t walk out today feeling better, I didn’t feel lighter or happier. I walked out with the knowledge that I have this period of my life behind me. And that I don’t want to go back there. So, it’s only fair now to say goodbye to you Timmy. You brought out the best in me, you were the one that hugged me and held me close without me asking for it. You were my joy and happiness, even if I didn’t realize it at the time. You were the bouncing energy that made me smile because of silly things and laugh of terrible jokes. You were the one I loved with my entire heart, with my entire soul, with my entire self. I will love you always. I choose you, even when you’re not an option. _


	3. (Un)forgiven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the last time, let's immerse ourselves in this fic.  
There is a lot of angst ahead and I could only hope that when you will reach the end it will be worth it.  
Maybe next time we would get a better ending.  
Thank you for all the love!  
PS: I've re-read it multiple times, but as it happens I'm only human, so some mistakes are surely there. Please don't be to harsh on me because of them.

Long ago Armie wondered how their first encounter would look like. He was occupying his mind with that thought, thinking that it will be ok. That they will meet soon and everything will be fine.  _ The master of lies.  _ He didn’t even know how many he told himself, repeated them again and again and again until he believed they were true. He remembers the first time he saw Timmy after that night. The one that will be forever engraved in his memory. The one that left him unable to get the scraps of his life together, because Timmy wasn’t there. He doesn’t remember what event was that or what was happening around him, but he does remember Timmy’s eyes glowing under the constant praise, lips curling to ten-watts smile. Timmy was everything. So he thought the decision he made was the right one. 

His hands are sweating and he still doubts about coming here tonight. Perhaps he is better without a closure his therapist spoke a lot about. Perhaps he doesn’t need it to achieve some peace of mind, because he still stupidly hopes for some miracle to happen. Perhaps leaving this untold gives him an open ending he so much hopes for.

At the same time he hates the things left unsaid, the not ended conversations, the half-spoken words hushed between angry rants. After all, it wasn’t fair for both of them to keep this going. He was always afraid of this. That the time will come when he will have to say goodbye and from that moment on every time he will turn back Timmy won’t be there to greet him with a tender smile.Simply because Timmy will take a different path.

* * *

_ He’s blushing. He knows he is. It’s weird being a center of the attention. Especially Timmy’s. There’s warmth spreading low in his belly. His heart fluttering in delight. He never had something like this. Timmy runs pads of his fingers up and down his cheeks, stubble softly tickling sensitive skin.  _

_ “I think I fall in love with you more every damn minute. It’s kind of frightening” _

_ Armie still doesn’t get how he does it. How he can be so genuinely open with his feelings, with his struggles, with his fears. Armie always kept it all to himself, afraid of sharing, afraid of judging, afraid of being exposed and vulnerable.  _

_ Timmy kisses the corner of his mouth, leaves small licks all over his jaw, presses his fingers firmly against the nape of his neck, Armie skin electrified at the touch, little jolts of current coursing through him, lighting up the nerve ends. The hip-roll that comes next is deliberate and purposeful, eliciting a moan coming from deep down his throat. Timmy nibbles at his ear, peppering tanned skin with licks and kisses, leaving a raspy and wet path behind. _

_ “I love you in the mornings, you’re so grumpy that you have to get up. I love you when you fuss about how little space we have in the bathroom and that you need to dip your head. I love you in the afternoons when it’s time to prepare lunch and you just mock me that I can’t cook. I love you when you just sit in your favorite armchair, doing notes for your next role. I love you in the evenings when you wrap yourself around me and I feel safe” Timmy whispers between kisses, his hands roaming all over Armie’s body and he’s just lost. There are no words. Nothing he could muster up to say now and it wouldn't sound cliche “And it terrifies me that I can lose it” _

* * *

“Hey” his voice sounds different, a little bit deeper, kind of softer. Or maybe his mind just plays tricks on him, since the last time he heard him saying anything those past two years was through speakers, the white noise of the device deforming the sound. Once he laid all night in bed, Timmy soft rambles spilling from the phone over and over again. Words blurred into one constant sound that was filling Armies ears as the best music in the world. 

“Hey” he finds himself saying, lifting his gaze from the counter to look at him. The weird sensation washes through him, like entering a parallel universe, because at the same time it’s Timmy that he knows, that he loves, that loves him back. But it’s also a stranger, a person that he once known, the body he had memorized with his fingers and tongue, every small dip, every curve, every mole, now seems foreign, out of his reach, even though his hands itch to grab him, to get him closer, to mark him. Once you couldn’t imagine living without him by your side, now he’s a stranger that barely says ‘hi’.

Timmy sits next to him, ordering a beer, Armie clutches tighter his glass of water, not answering Timmy’s silent ask when he furrows his brows at the sight. 

“So … how are you?” 

He hates it, every damn minute of it. He hates that there’s tension between them, he hates that talking isn’t easy as it used to be, he hates that they are both stiff trying to make some awkward conversation. Above all, he hates that he did that. That once again he hurt the person he loved the most, that he was so blind and didn’t see that he needed Timmy in his life. In whatever capacity he could. He cut himself from him and now he has to pay for it. 

“I’m good” 

Armie really doesn’t know what to say

“I’m sorry about your divorce” is what finally Timmy says and Armie really doesn’t want to listen to him. He doesn’t want to know.

“Why?” he asks, averting his eyes from the halo of curls, fixing them on the glass in his hand, his voice small.

“Because you still are a very important person to me Armie. Despite everything that happened, everything I’ve said, you will always be important.”

“I was mad. So fucking angry you know” Timmy says finally, his voice stuttering just for a fraction of a second before the silence encompasses them again. Armie waits, there are no words he could say to this, it’s Timmy’s time to speak “I dived straight to work. But it didn’t help, I didn’t find the usual bliss of taking my mind off of things. I know I shouldn't … say this to you. There’s no point. There’s no us to save. But I need to … be honest, I suppose I need to do this for myself. It’s selfish, I know, but there’s part inside me that won’t let it go” he cracks his knuckles, his legs bouncing up and down, the nerves pouring out of him in waves. Yet Armie doesn’t speak, his eyes glued to Timmy’s face, hungrily taking everything. Knowing this is the last time. Perhaps he doesn’t dare to speak afraid of what is inside his mind. Afraid that he will bare his soul, ask for forgiveness and beg to be together again. Perhaps of this hope, still annealing inside him he stays quiet. Hope was always his worst enemy, taking a proud second place. Just after him.

“I met someone” is what spills from Timmy’s mouth in the next second, shattering the hope, smashing Armie’s insides, the pain so real he almost sinks to his knees. He doesn’t want to be here anymore. And he feels tears at the corner of his eyes, he bites his lower lip trying hard to not break in front of Timmy. He feels sick, almost ready to throw up. “They made me realize you were right. I wasn’t ready. I was constantly living in that bubble I created, I couldn’t see past it. I was blind with love, convinced that it would be enough. That it has to be enough” he chuckles to himself “Perhaps, after all, it’s good you ended it like this. Before reality crashed my dreams with the snap of its fingers”

“Are you happy?” Armie asks after a few seconds of silence between them, the background noise fading

“Yeah” Timmy hums acknowledgedly, “I think I am”

The silence stretching between them like an elastic band, becoming tighter around their throats with each pull. Armie wants to run, at least his mind is ready to fly out of there, but his body is glued to the spot and he can’t move, not really. As if waiting for the inevitable goodbye slipping from Timmy’s perfect plump lips. The voice even and steady, ready to give the final blow. Suddenly Armie realizes it. That his body waits, stiff and rigid, anticipating the last punch, that little push of a fingertip towards the shattering feeling of an end.

“I’m happy for you” Armie manages to choke out. He stands, looks at those kaleidoscopic green eyes, the urge to lean closer and kiss him suddenly unbearable. There’s nothing left to say. So he leaves, the door shutting behind him quietly, the clicking sound reverberating in his ears. This is how it ends, with just the push of his hands, his entire being shattering, collapsing like a house of cards. He takes one step forward, then another, dragging his feet further down the road. With each and every step some piece of his soul falling to the ground. He doesn’t stop, he doesn’t dwell on it. He leaves them there, lying. There’s no point in trying to fix something broken. He lets himself fall apart.

* * *

His chest constricts, he feels his insides painfully knotted. He really tries to breathe but it comes in sharp pants and he’s unable to fill his lungs properly. Armie collapses on the armchair, his hands digging into armrests, trying to ground himself. He shivers, cold sweat sheathing his skin in a firm layer. His thoughts a never-ending story of what he should’ve said and what he didn’t dare to speak.

When the calm finally settles in him, he stands heading towards his bedroom to change into something more comfortable. He knows there’s one last thing for him to do. Because despite everything, he didn’t say goodbye. 

_ You were the one that taught me love, the one that taught me I should appreciate myself and never sell myself short. There were so many things I wanted to ask you. Even more, I wanted to tell. How much I miss you, how I wake up in the middle of the night and my body seeks yours, only to find the space cold and empty. To tell you that Ford and Harper are still asking for you. But it wouldn’t be fair, would it?!  _

_ I feel … no - I am fragmented. I could trace with just my fingertip the fractures, the splitting lines that are telling the story of my soul. Brush my thumb over the merging spots. Because I tried. I really tried to be whole again, to get those pieces together in any resemblance of shape, just to not feel so torn apart. But there are always some parts missing. Because you go with your life, meeting strangers, falling in love, creating friendships and unique experiences and you connect with those people so deeply that they take a piece of you with them when they leave.  _

_ I don’t feel whole. Perhaps that’s the problem. I can feel those pieces missing, I can feel hollows in my soul that I can’t fill with anything. But I don’t want them to be filled. Not now. Not ever. They remind me that pain can one day become so small that you can carry it inside you without breaking. It’s the only thing that keeps me alive. _

_ Sometimes I wish to do things differently. Today I no longer feel like a failure. Like a fool. I love you. I always will. But I want you to be happy, to be loved and cherished. So I’m telling you Goodbye. I wish I could whisper this to your ear and place small, lingering - last - kiss on your cheek. Feel the soft flesh beneath my lips, feel the blush blossoming there. Feel you underneath me that last time. But the only thing I can do is write this word on the paper, let the ink sink to the sheet, make it permanent. And it has to be enough. Even if it isn’t. _

_ Goodbye Timmy. _

He folds the paper carefully and places it inside the box full of similarly looking paper notes. The lid feels much heavier in his hands than usual.  _ This is the end.  _ It isn’t a sudden thought, the realization that was downing on him for quite some time. But this here, right here feels final. There’s no coming back, there’s no turning away from it. 

Just before he puts the lid on, the doorbell rings. He sighs, convinced that Nick just tries to reassure himself that his friend is fine. He isn’t, but maybe with time, he will be.

“Nick I really want to be alone,” he says opening the door and then stops, dumbfounded “Timmy?!” and it’s barely a whisper

“Can I come in?” Armie doesn’t dare to ask how he found out where he lives, just nods, letting him inside. The soft click of closing doors echoing between them.

It’s surreal having Timmy inside his apartment, in the middle of his living room, standing uncomfortably, shuffling from one foot to another. His nervousness palpable in the air.

“I just need to say it Armie” is what comes from Timmy’s mouth in the next second, when their eyes finally meet “I was angry. So fucking angry. At you. At the whole world, at people around me, that seemed to just live as nothing happened. Like it didn’t matter that my whole life fell apart, crumbled into so little, tiny pieces. When the anger passed, I felt empty. For so long I was feeding myself with rage and anger, I refused to feel anything else, that when it finally dawned on me I just … I just didn’t feel anything. I tried to fill this hollow inside me with something. Anything. Searching for any resemblance of love I could find. But nor bodies pressed to mine in the middle of the dance floor, nor people warming my bed couldn’t fill that void.”

“Timmy you don’t have to” he starts to say, but Timmy interrupts him

“Armie, please,” he says pleadingly “I need to”

Armie nods and doesn’t say that he knows. Doesn’t ask him to stop, doesn’t dare to speak that he’s aware. That he is the one that did it. That it’s all his damn fault. That there’s only one person to blame for Timmy’s distress and sorrow. But he stays quiet. Because deep down inside he knows that it wouldn’t stop there. Because he wouldn't be able to stop himself from saying that he’s broken. That there are missing pieces of his soul, hidden somewhere inside Timmy’s body, that even though he can’t see them, they fit perfectly simply because they belong there. He doesn’t say ‘I’m sorry’, perhaps afraid of what would come next. 

_ I won’t ever forgive you Armie _

He can still hear that small crack in Timmy’s voice when he said it. Two years ago and it’s still a vivid memory in his mind. So he doesn’t dare to speak. Terrified of losing even the last remnant of hope.

“When I met Erick I was … still in the bad place, I suppose I could describe it like this” Timmy continues and Armie feels his heart clenching painfully in his ribcage, how it’s suddenly hard to drag oxygen to his lungs, how tears start filling his eyes so he bites his lower lip to stop them from falling down his cheeks. His mind screams in well-known pain, that was buried deep down inside him. That old certainty that Timmy will find someone who will take care of him, who will erase the crazed lines with a gentle brush of their fingers, who will stitch him carefully with dedicated and well-practiced hands, that know only how to amalgamate and are foreign to destroying. That someone who will erase his touch from Timmy’s body, replace memories of him from Timmy’s mind, until he will be forgotten. Reduced to nothing by time and the presence of others.

“He didn’t see me like many others, that was refreshing. Perhaps that was the reason I let him in. That I let him see me. Or maybe I was just tired of hiding, tired of pretending. Perhaps I wanted to finally fall and I needed someone to catch me.”

“I’m happy for you Timmy” it’s true, even if it hurts. The hollow and bitter laugh that follows his response is unexpected, making Armie look straight into Timmy’s eyes.

“I don’t think you understand”

“I don’t think I want to know more Timmy” 

He is standing there, in the middle of a room, lid still in his hands and they look at each other, the silence stretching between them. _ Is there anything left to say? _

“But I have to say it.” he shuffles forward, like it’s really that important that he needs to be closer “I’m selfish asshole, but I need to get it out of my head.” he stops, takes a deep breath and searches Armie’s eyes once again “Erick made me realize a few things. First that I was living in a bubble and when you left all I could feel was anger because it was safe. Because lying to myself that I hate you and don’t want to see you again was better than accepting that you were no longer there. Better than accepting that you didn’t love me enough to stay.” he adds quietly like it still hurts “He made me realize it’s my time to start healing those wounds, instead of keeping them open and infected. It’s because of him I can say  _ I’m happy _ without feeling like I’m lying to myself. I can say it without any pain grasping my body as a punishment.” he closes his eyes, letting the silence fill their bodies and Armie knows what comes next. Because even if you’d try, you can’t unsay things you once said. They are permanently out and you can’t take them back. So he waits for final words that will shatter the last shred of his hope, taking it away from him. Perhaps, after all, he doesn’t even deserve to dream about happiness. 

“But most importantly, he made me realize that despite everything, despite the anger, sorrow, pain, gut-wrenching feeling of being alone, I’m still in love with you” he says and Armie can’t breath “It never went away, I just buried it under the ashes, wishing for it to disappear. But it never did. I know … it’s not fair, but I had to say it. After those 2 years, I had to finally be honest, not only with you but with myself. I love you Armie.” he adds lastly, his voice sounding small and defeated. He smiles crestfallen and with final nod turns around. 

“Timmy” Armie utters when he’s at the door, making him stop but Timmy doesn't turn to face him “Please stay” he barely manages to whisper, hoping it's enough. 

That this time it must be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As it is I'd love to thank L for making me add the last few paragraphs. I was ready to cut it right when Armie finds Timmy at his door, but she wanted some more and I did too, but I didn't want this ending to be cliche.  
I hope it isn't.  
Thank you all once again.

**Author's Note:**

> You can yell at me on tumblr @whatitis-inside


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